For You
by sakura-oneesan
Summary: It's the small things in life that one should treasure. Food, music and friendship were, in Bilbo's opinion, worth far more than the wealth that the Lonely Mountain had to offer. He realized that over the journey, but only too late had he said how he felt about the rest. / OC warning, and character death. Pairings undecided.


I do not own Lord of the Rings, nor do I claim to. The following is a fanfiction based off of the Hobbit, with a new simple addition to the story that I thought would be interesting to try.

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Looking back with a pipe in his mouth, and a paper in his lap, Bilbo liked to think of their meeting not as fate, but as something that was just supposed to happen. She wasn't—one to sit idly by and have her life laid out in front of her. No, she was the one that directed life and told it what to do. It was as simple as breathing for her—and he wished that getting the both of them into trouble wasn't just as easy for her. Gods were jealous of her will, and kings bent down on both knees when cornered with her glare.

He could tell you from the first time that they had met, that he didn't expect their relationship to grow into that of a father and his only daughter. They were something parents envied, even if they themselves didn't see the inexplicable beauty of their love. It was unexpected of, and completely unprecedented on all accounts, for a hobbit to be so rash. But he didn't regret it; not for one moment. Because he adored her rashness, for it was that which saved him and many others several times over. It was her simple needs and demands that reminded him that they weren't so different. It was her fragileness that reminded him that no matter how many layers of plate you placed over her, it couldn't deflect all wounds.

No, he would never be able to forget her, or any of his companions that he had frown attached to. "What an adventure that had been…" the weathered hobbit whispers, his words brushing the leaves of the flowers. They sailed up into the blue sky, the smoke rings that he had been entertaining himself with taking his mind far away, to where there was that dear person with the eyes that seemed to capture the azure light even better than the resolute sky above them.

_**Chapter One—In Which They Have a Contest of Sorts**_

He was just out for a walk mind you—nothing terribly exciting if the prospect had peaked your interest. The hobbit was on his way back from Hobbiton's market, a basket filled with a few ingredients that he would use in cooking—whether it being close in the future or distant depending on his stomach. Bilbo Baggins rarely strayed far from his hole, for inside it was all he needed to fulfill his day: Books, knitting, cleaning and cooking.

His hill, The Hill, was known far and wide across the Shire for its comfort, and he loved it with all of his Hobbity heart. It was made by his father for his mother, Belladonna Took, and when they both passed away—bless their souls—Bilbo inherited it. He grew up in that hole, and it would take a great deal more than Lobelia Sackville Baggins stealing his silver spoons to make him give it up—thank you very much!

Something made Bilbo pause in his merry walk, the whistling of a small tune only carrying on a high pitch before stopping completely. "What on Earth…" He wonders aloud. Bending down by the knees, he sets his basket down and stops himself from moving further towards the strange bundle. It wasn't a child—and it wasn't trash. It was moving far too much to be junk, and the flap of the gray cloth wound around it fluttered up into the air when the thing exhaled. "What could it be?" he continues after a moment of silence and pondering. What was one to do when faced with a situation such as this? Surely you didn't expect him to just poke and prod it—for all he knew, it could be foaming at the mouth and ready to bite him when given the chance! So with those dreadful thoughts in mind he shuffled backwards some more—just in case. Precautions had to be taken before any other form of interaction of the bundle could be carried out. Taking in a deep breath of air, the process supposedly an attempt to calm ones nerves down, he reaches into his basket and pulls out a link of meat he had just purchased.

The bundle abruptly pauses when he does this and Bilbo stifles a yelp of fright. Its head had wriggled out of the wrap and jaws had clamped down around the sausage eagerly. Bilbo was left stupefied by what he made out to be the head of a cat. No—not a cat, he had seen a few, and this was most certainly not a cat! It was too big, but not overly-large. The animal pushes out of the blanket and finishes off the meat, its pink tongue licking the grease off of the hobbits fingers. For a moment he had found it endearing; all up until it nipped at his fingers making him screech and fly upwards in fright. "Beast—a beast is going to eat me!" He cries flapping his arms about him wildly. He had startled the animal, and it had begun to back up as well and hiss. The feline's jaws were agape, showing sharp gleaming milk teeth of a predator. It was then that Bilbo promptly tilted to the side and fell to the floor with a face as white as the sheets that were laid on his bed.

You could imagine that his dreams were filled with the thoughts of being eaten alive, and seemingly harmless lion cubs that wore blankets as a Hobbit or Man would clothes.

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Please R & R, your opinions and additions are always welcome. These will be only about a thousand words per chapter, and I plan to take it very slow. Updates may range from every other day to a week at most. Your patience and continued support are like cookies for me!


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